


Movie Night with Law

by Rvotshka



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Disney Movies, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Tea, Yandere, ropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 19:18:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12217251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rvotshka/pseuds/Rvotshka
Summary: Reader has pretty much kidnapped Lawrence to keep him as a domestic boyfriend.





	Movie Night with Law

       You want him to put his arm around you. That's what couples usually do when they sit down on the couch to watch movies together. You want to let him, but he needs the ropes that hold his arms to his body or else he'd have too much control. Regrettably, you can't even hold one of his hands that you've bound together at the wrists. You tried earlier, but his harsh grip was close to crushing your fingers and he kept trying to pull you down to the floor so he could either strangle you or stomp on your throat or maybe both. So you've learned your lesson to keep your hands away from his.

       It's alright, you don't have to hold hands. Leaning on him, your head comfortably on his shoulder as you hold on to his arm, is plenty enough. He's even calmed down from struggling earlier, and the only complaint you have now is that you can't find a pattern between his willingness to comply and his readiness to lash out. You wonder if he could even manage to hurt you while tied up like this.

       His hands twitch- he's getting restless, maybe tired of doing nothing but sitting next to you- and again you resist the urge to hold them in yours as if you could comfort him. You glance at the coffee table, at the knife you left there as a threat, and part of you wishes he would somehow try to reach for it just so you'd have a reason to use it.

       You turn your attention back to the movie with a content sigh and wish you two could stay like this forever.

       You know that you can't. He's been fidgeting since the second half of the movie, which probably means he's bored of it now.

       You stroke his arm absently, affectionately like he’s a dog, and he tenses. It's something he does repeatedly and by now you've grown accustomed to it. You so much as yawn and he tenses like you're going to hit him again.

       You put your chin on his shoulder and look up at him.

       “Do you want to watch a different movie?” you ask.

       He doesn't reply, not immediately, but you're used to that. He doesn't look at you, and you're used to that too. His eyes trail from the TV down to his hands that are growing cold with their lack of blood flow. You don't want to have it that tight, but rope can easily give slack with tension, even if a little. Without the right knot, he could potentially slip out of them.

       “Can you...untie my hands?” he asks softly.

       “How about a Disney movie? We haven't watched an animated film yet,”

       He sighs, an action that's cute and pitiful simultaneously and your heart swells with warmth just like when he first made you smile at the bar. On impulse you lean up to kiss him on the cheek and he turns his head away before you can. He doesn't let you do that, kissing seems to be on his zero-tolerance list. You could try again but he might try to swing his head forward and knock your teeth out. And he's been so good tonight that you don't feel that urge anymore to provoke him to misbehave.

       You put your chin back on his shoulder and sigh in the same manner he had, borderline mocking him.

       “I'll put on a new movie, and you can watch the first couple minutes while I go make us some tea. How does that sound?”

       He won't look at you, his head is still turned away.

       “Lawrence.”

       He tenses again at the sound of his name falling from your lips, as if you’ve scolded him. He lifts his head but his eyes are glued to the ground like always.

       “That sounds… fine.”

       “Good,” you smile. Your fingers delicately brush a few strands of hair out of his face before you stand and start the new movie, this time it’s _Beauty and the Beast_ , a film you love dearly just as much as he loves that movie with the deer and the other forest critters.

       You take the knife into the kitchen with you, the solid handle is reassuring but still feels unnecessary since he can't even do anything. Your preparing the tea, and every time you look over at him you catch his eyes darting to the floor, afraid of being caught staring at you. You laugh and by the time you're sitting down next to him again with a cup in each hand, he's blushing that adorable shade of pink because he knows you're going to hold that cup against his lips until he decides to drink it.

       You place your teacup down on the coffee table after a small sip, the knife going down as well, and you shift closer to him.

       “Don't worry, it's not too hot.” you assure. You hold the brim of his cup just centimeters from his lips.

       Lawrence looks at you, his eyes wide and nervous now.

       You urge him by pressing it to his mouth before tipping it. He sputters lightly, almost choking, but he quickly swallows the tea before it has the chance to overspill down his chin. He whines softly and tries moving his head back because you keep tipping the cup until you inevitably force him to drink the whole thing.

       He coughs when you pull the cup away and you smile.

       “Calm down, it wasn't even that much. Wasn't it soothing?” you ask.

       He glances at you before looking back down at his hands and you can see tears threatening to spill over his lashes, nothing new since he's close to crying practically every minute.

       You put the cup down and then nudge his arm.

       “Hey, answer me when I ask you a question.” you say.

       “Y-yes,”

       “Yes to what?”

       “Yes, it was soothing.”

       “You're not even going to thank me for making it for you?”

       “Thank you,”

       You grin at his responses but his voice is flat, and if you force him to talk anymore he might shut down and refuse to speak completely. So you stop for now.

       You're still smiling as you lean on his side again, putting your head on his shoulder like before. You could die like this, it's the most comfortable you've been in months and you feel lucky for ever meeting him in the first place.

       Time slips by as you get lost in the movie, and it’s not too long until you notice Lawrence’s head starting to dip. 

       “Lawrence, are you falling asleep?” you ask him, rubbing his arm.

       Lawrence shakes his head slowly and tries to keep it from falling forward. He's not tense anymore, his whole body has sank into the couch and his fidgety hands haven't moved in a while.

       “What…” He groans and closes his eyes before letting his head fall back. “Did… What did you put in my tea?”

       “Don't worry, it's just something to help you relax. Are you feeling more calm now?”

       He curses very softly under his breath and he looks up at the ceiling with unfocused eyes.

       “I… thought I was being good,” he says.

       “You were being good! This isn't a punishment, I just wanted to help you feel less anxious.” You pat his chest then lean toward the coffee table to grab the knife. “Can you move your arms?”

       He shakes his head again and he closes his eyes. He looks unconscious, but when you place your fingers onto the side of his neck to feel his jugular, his heart is beating a mile a minute. His face is flushed with the drug in his bloodstream and his breathing sounds shallow.

       You tap the flat of the blade on the side of his face. He frowns and barely opens his eyes as he shies away from it.

       “It's okay,” you assure, “I'm just going to free your arms.”

       He stills and looks at you with that face of confusion that you absolutely adore, and with a turn of your wrist, you slice through the ropes binding his upper arms close to his body. The limited freedom lets him relax more and he looks at you again with those beautiful half-lidded eyes as he weakly pushes his tied hands into your lap, his unspoken request sitting on his lips.

       “Sorry, Law,” you say, “But I think I’ll leave your hands tied together for now.”

       You toss the knife onto the table and your other hand slides from his bicep down to his wrist, tracing over the coarse rope that’s already leaving burns into his flesh from hours of him tensing against them.

       You’re lightly tracing over his cold fingers now, your eyes catching his jaw tense. He hasn’t looked away from you yet, the growing hatred in his gaze is as readable as his annoyance with you, but all he can do it languidly glare. Your hand slips into his like you had done once before, and this time he doesn’t grip your hand with the motive to break your fingers. He tries to, he really does, you can feel his wrist flexing with the effort, but the grasp of his hand around yours is weak and it makes you smile with joy.

       Still holding hands, you lean back into his side more comfortable than ever and watch the rest of the movie, occasionally reminding him along the way how much you love him.


End file.
